


Suds and Buds (Wait, They're Still Just Buds, Right??)

by SBambs



Category: DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Other, POV Roy Harper, Somehow he's the smartest and dumbest one of the group, Third Wheels, Third-wheeling (hardcore), sometimes it be like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28758420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SBambs/pseuds/SBambs
Summary: Despite either party being very-clearly head-over-heels for the other, there was at a stand still between his two idiot roommates. An impasse of intimacy, if you will. And Roy? Goddammit, Roy had to be in the fucking middle of it all. He knew both sides of the story, had acted as couple’s counselor to either half of said couple-to-be, so then why the hell does it feel like he’s still missing something crucial going on between them?
Relationships: Jason Todd & Reader, Jason Todd/Reader, Roy Harper & Jason Todd, Roy Harper & Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 65





	Suds and Buds (Wait, They're Still Just Buds, Right??)

Roy was rooming with two idiots. Not the typical ‘I don’t know what that word/phrase/thing means’ idiots—hell, they were fucking geniuses of strategy for God’s sake—but the ‘I will wrongly over-analyze until the day I die’ kind of idiots. Holy fuck, it was killing him. 

They were idiots because they couldn’t see that the other goddamn dumbass was in love with them; Jason couldn’t tell that she was head over heels for him and she couldn’t see that Jason fucking adored her. It was a relentless ping-pong game of pining where the ball would forever be in the other’s court and Roy had fucking had enough. 

He was half a step away from having an intervention where he locked the two of them in a room and didn’t let them out until they’d talked over their relationship. 

No, Roy couldn’t do that; he had too much of a self-preservation instinct. They’d crucify him if he did that. Maybe castrate him. Maybe even hide his personal stash of hard liquor, or, _he shuddered_ , they’d pour it down the drain. Roy couldn’t fucking have that, not when he would need said stash for either the continued and intense awkward pining that followed or, God willing, the lovey-dovey bullshit. 

So he was stuck just watching his two idiot roommates dance around each other and tear themselves apart because they were too fucking stupid. Christ, the thought alone made him want to grab a couple cases of beer and get wasted. 

* * *

He was pretty sure something had happened between them. It had to’ve, with the damn way Jason wouldn’t stop glaring at him (at first he’d thought it was because he may or may not have eaten the last of Jason’s fettuccine alfredo leftovers, though he quickly realized that that was _not_ the case) and the way she avoided alone time with Jason like the plague. 

The latter was certainly interesting, but it wasn’t as life-threatening as the former. Like, what? What had Roy done? Yeah, he had the history of using a flamethrower on his closest pal, and yeah, they gave each other a lot ( _a lot_ ) of shit, but he’d never done anything personal to Jay. Certainly nothing that warranted such blatant and, in Roy's humble opinion, _pointed_ scrutiny.

Sure, he could have ended their mutual pining by saying something, but then he’d be killed on spot for interfering and Roy rather liked his life, thank you very much; so he sat on the sidelines, watching as his two idiot roommates just missed each other each and every day, because it wasn’t like he could really do _anything_ unless one of them asked him to. 

It wasn’t his fault that they were dumbasses. That was their own problem, and he had to suffer through it with them just as much, if not more, because they were so _painfully_ obvious (and oblivious). 

So, he’d continued like he didn’t notice Jason trying to shoot him with his eyes alone and like he didn’t notice how red she got when Jason walked into the room and like he didn’t know that something was so completely off between them. 

They were adults, and they could handle this themselves, right?

* * *

Wrong. Very wrong. 

What the fuck was going on between them? 

The mission had been fine—just some basic intel and patrol/stakeout—and yet they acted skittish around each other. She still wasn’t meeting Jason’s eyes, and Jason? Jason looked like a kicked puppy. Roy had never seen him so upset, so _dejected_ , and he’d seen Jay recover from getting beaten physically and verbally by Batman. 

He was resigned to something. Knowing Jaybird, it was probably along the lines of his own self worth, or perceived lack of, more likely. 

Which sucked. It sucked ass, and it sucked hard. 

_Especially_ when Roy knew how they loved each other. If one of them just fucking _made the first step_ , then they wouldn’t fucking _second guess each other_ and _shut down like this_. 

Roy just bit his tongue and kept quiet. Well, only in regards to the palpable sexual tension between them. His mouth was quite open when he cracked jokes to ease said tension, and he kept his body language large and open and personal between the two of them to melt whatever funk they were caught up in. 

It didn’t help. Roy felt as shitty as they looked. 

* * *

Something was going on. It had to be, with the way they were looking at each other that morning. 

While he certainly hadn’t expected her to go and fuck somebody else in Jason’s stead, he figured pent up frustration was bound to drive someone to do that. A part of him hated her, just a little bit, because he knew how crazy Jay was for her; him seeing her like that first thing in the morning must have been a shock. 

Granted, Jason hadn’t acted the way Roy thought he would. He’d expected steely rage, bitter jealousy, and maybe just a hint (oh, who was he kidding, a metric shit-ton) of violence intended for the guy who had mouth-fucked her neck. There wasn’t an ounce of that; instead, he’d smiled. _Smiled_. Well, smirked, technically speaking, and when he asked her if whoever she saw was good, he seemed almost to take it as a challenge. Roy’s first thought was ‘ _What the fuck, that’s a terribly private thing to ask somebody!_ ’ and his second was ‘ _Why the hell does it feel like I’m on the wrong side of an inside joke?_ '

Suspicious. 

It didn’t get better when Jason took a call in the living room as soon as she’d left the kitchen. 

Roy heard scraps of the conversation—“So I need to call in a favor. . . .”—“You know Eliot, right? Gotham Gazette? Yeah, him . . .”—“Take him out for brunch or something, I don’t know. Just get him _out_ of the building.”—“Please, just trust me, she needs this. . . okay, it might also kind of be my fault.”—“Thanks, B. Bye.”

That last bit was interesting. Jason abhorred calling Bruce up for favors. It was kind of the Robin mantle, really, to deny Batman’s help as much as possible out of pure spite; he kind of understood it, being Oliver’s sidekick for so long. 

Jason was just helping out a friend, right? So then why did he say it was ‘also kind of his fault’ on the call?

Doubly suspicious. 

Then Jason returned to what Roy assumed was his own room, maybe to get some more sleep, or maybe to plot the murder of the guy who fucked the love of his life. Both were equally likely in Roy’s mind, despite Jay’s weird response earlier. 

Saying it got _really weird_ after that would be the understatement of the century. Roy swore he heard someone moaning in one of the bedrooms. He was just trying to make eggs, but the damn fucking apartment sounded like the emergency wing of some hospital. Was. . . was one of his roommates _masturbating_? 

Nah, there was no way, right? 

It had to be tinnitus from the hundreds of explosions he’d heard during the course of his vigilante life, right? Granted, tinnitus was usually a high-pitched whine, and while it _did_ happen in deafening silence, it certainly didn’t sound pornographic. 

The shared looks, the suddenly inconspicuous moaning. . . were they fucking?

Roy burst out laughing at the thought. Those idiots? _Hell no_. They had at least two, probably three, more months of pining before one of them broke. 

* * *

Holy fuck, he was actually making some headway. Not only had he gotten Jason to finally confess to having feelings for their other roommate, but he’d caught the fucker red-handed in checking her out. 

They’d also apparently talked. Well, obviously they’d _talked_ , but Jason made a little slip-up that eluded that they had talked about _them_. As in, their relationship, and, Roy prayed to every god he didn’t believe in, their shared feelings for each other. 

But everything kind of just reverted to how it was before the week and a half of stasis. 

They still acted buddy-buddy, but it wasn’t exactly as intimate as lovers were. She certainly teased Jason some more, and that teasing seemed borderline risqué, but Roy didn’t think much of it. 

Why? 

Because despite her being almost _painfully_ obvious in her affections towards him, Jason just blushed and stuttered and refused to meet her halfway. 

Jesus Christ, Roy was going to have to propose to her for him. At least he’d be secured as Jay’s best man. Hopefully. If they ever even fucking got there. Which, as the days went on and they continued to dance around each other, a wedding, or any kind of goddamn progress for that matter, was pushed further and further into the future. 

Roy sighed into his now-room-temperature grilled cheese. They were hopeless. 

* * *

Roy needed to get more sleep. He had to, because his bleary, heavy eyes must have been playing tricks on him. 

Jason was leaning against the wall opposite to her bedroom door, looking. . . ? Debauched? Content? More than a little satisfied and hopeful? His hair was certainly ruffled, and his shirt was certainly wrinkled, and his eyes were certainly dazed. Maybe he was daydreaming?

Roy ducked into the bathroom before he was caught. He checked his phone: 7:32 a.m. Okay, so his dazed and messy appearance made sense, especially when Jay had the habit of sleeping in on his off days. 

That still left the question of, _why the fuck was he up so early?_ and, more pressing, _why was he outside of her door?_

“Hey, Jaybird,” Roy said as naturally as he could when he left the safety of the bathroom. 

Jason jumped like he’d been struck. He licked his lips, barely containing a fierce grin. “Mornin’, Roy.” 

“You seem-” Roy eyed his disheveled appearance once more, brightened only by the excitement in his eyes, “-chipper today.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a nice day out. Sun’s shining, no more rain, you know how rare that is in Gotham.” He wasn’t looking _at_ Roy, but rather through him. 

Okay, so he was distracted. That was actually pretty on par for Jay, all things considered. Usually it was _brooding_ distracted, though, as per all other Bats. Never _happy_. Never _excited_. Roy didn’t entirely mind seeing his buddy like that, he just wished he knew the context—specifically, if this sudden change in mood had something to do with the third member of their trio. 

“Yeah,” Roy said finally, drawing out the single high-pitched syllable and squinting his eyes. 

The aching suspicion he felt was poorly masked on his face. Jason sobered, coughing, as if his hand covering his mouth would also cover the quirked up edges of his smile. “Have you- have you had breakfast yet?”

Bribery? Interesting. _Very_ interesting. 

“No, why?” he lied. (Just because he was sleuthing didn’t mean he couldn’t also benefit from this. Second breakfast/first brunch is where it’s at.)

“Well,” Jason fiddled with the hem of his shirt, “I could make you something. I was- I was already planning on making her some breakfast, so-”

“Does that have something to do with why you’re outside of her door so early?” Roy asked, thankful for the segway into a much-needed interrogation. 

And whoo boy, was it going to be an interrogation, especially with the way Jay’s cheeks flamed up. Had he not been so focused on getting information, he would have teased him about living up to his vigilante moniker. He still filed that particular mockery for later. 

“Yeah, uh, I woke up at seven just so I could make her breakfast. She’s got that big interview today and I want her to be as relaxed as possible for it.” Jason finally met Roy’s eyes; in some capacity, he was telling the truth. 

Given Jason’s previous method of wooing her—cooking dinner, baking goods, buying the foods she loved from the local grocer down the street (all of which Roy had enjoyed mooching off of when appropriate)—this was standard stuff. Theoretically, Roy could continue to push Jason, just because he still felt like he didn’t have the full story, but he figured he’d lay off. For now. 

Besides, he was promised breakfast, and who was he to pass that up?

* * *

The apartment was quiet without them. She was at her interview, and Jay fumbled out something about grabbing some kielbasa for an improvised paella later that night. (So he was making them— _her_ —dinner _and_ breakfast? In the same day? Jason was really pulling out all the stops this time.) 

As suffocating and frustrating as living with the two densest, shiest vigilantes known to man- and alien-kind could be, Roy missed having them around. Sure, it was nice to be able to make a mess in the kitchen when he improvised lunch for himself—Jason would’ve teased his ass to hell and back for somehow managing to get pasta sauce on the ceiling—but just having his friends in the near vicinity was comforting. 

He tried to pass the time in his room, tinkering around with scraps of metal and some little motors he managed to salvage from some junkyard. There was this new thing he wanted to try out, a kind of all-purpose modified Swiss army knife, complete with pliers, a flashlight, lock-picking tools, and a miniature flamethrower among the usual attachments. Only, he didn’t really know how to make it small enough to be convenient while still allowing each piece to function. Maybe if he could snag some of Bruce’s tech for reference-

 _Anyway_ , Roy had resorted to staring out the window, mind locking and shifting and weighing each idea. His eyes caught on each passerby, barely even noticing them, until they noticed two very familiar silhouettes bundled up and walking close next to each other. It was his dumbass roommates. 

_That_ snapped him out of his haze. 

Though a few stories up, he saw their shared smiles, beaming and shy. Obviously, they were happy, and Roy found himself smiling because maybe, _just_ maybe, they’d made some headway towards an actual romantic relationship. 

Besides, who held hands platonically, holed up in the same pocket like that?

* * *

His idiot friends did, apparently. God, Christ, _anyone_ , just please, please take him out back and shoot him. This was getting ridiculous. 

* * *

All Roy wanted was to get out of the apartment for a day. Scratch what he said about not liking being alone in their safe houses—something weird was going on between them. Like, even more weird than their previous funk(s). 

Despite being physically closer to each other, i.e. brushing shoulders, hugging, even half-snuggling up against each other during movie nights, there seemed to still be some kind of block. They looked happy at face value with whatever they classified their relationship—Jason had defensively said ‘Just friends,’ the last time he’d interrogated him about it, and Roy had yet to speak to her about the situation in depth—but there was obviously something _else_ going on beneath that brittle façade. 

Foreboding. Disappointment. Even a little fear. So, if they hadn’t already caved and confessed, then did that mean it was on the way? So then why were they _both_ giving off bad vibes?

It was awkward to say the least. And uncomfortable. Roy was third-wheeling this entire mishap. He was third-wheeling something that wasn’t technically third-wheel-able. Christ above, this was a mess. 

He had no idea what to do, so he decided to continue on with his latest gadget design. Which, required parts—parts he didn’t have with him at the apartment and parts that he’d have to buy at some mechanic or hardware store. God willing, that meant that he’d get some time away from whatever the fuck was going on with them. 

Unfortunately, the places he’d checked hadn’t had what he needed. Roy didn’t want to risk looking at every legal (and illegal) parts dealer in the city, especially when he knew a guy up in New Hampshire that could guarantee the parts in question at a low price. 

Roy was calculating the amount of money he should bring with him, including for gas money, when he swore he heard a low moan. It sounded like it was coming from down the hall. He stood up from his chair—maybe someone was hurt?—until he heard it again, though this time it morphed into the syllables of a curse. 

Oh. Okay, so someone was definitely doing _something_. 

Part of him wanted to investigate. Best case scenario, those dumbasses finally worked through all their repressed affections, worst case scenario, they had to call Zatanna to exorcise their place. He didn’t though, just because finding out either scenario was equally as terrifying to him. The latter because hey, demons aren’t exactly a good time, and the former because he wasn’t mentally prepared with an adequate arsenal (ha!) of jokes and jabs for them. 

* * *

Jason looked antsy as Roy got ready to leave. He kept pacing, kept twisting the bottom of his t-shirt between his fingers. His hair was messy and his eyes were wide. Panicked. Reluctant. 

Roy eyed his disheveled appearance. “Something wrong, pal?” 

“Yeah, uh, well, it's time for me to come clean.” He looked like he was going to pass out from nervousness. 

“Come clean?”

“To her. I’ve got to tell her tonight,” Jay said. Something in his eyes was wild and hurt, like he already made it up in his mind that she’d say no to him. Roy had to stop himself from laughing; like _that_ would ever happen. “I’ve got to tell her—be honest. Y’know?”

That was fair, except, well, Jay’s timing was a bit off. One, he should’ve done this ages ago, preferably before she hooked up with that old friend of hers. Two, maybe not after a mission, when her energy would be low (especially after having to deal with all of those pompous assholes known otherwise as 'socialites'). If she was tired, she might be dismissive, and that may stifle whatever will Jason's still got in him to actually _tell her_. 

“Do you want to maybe practice on me or. . . ?” Roy almost winced. He wasn't exactly the best at giving relationship advice. 

Jason ran a hand through his hair. “No, I'll be fine. Hopefully. I just- I can’t let this, um, _thing_ between us get in the way anymore.” 

Was he talking about the off energy that festered between the two of them during the last couple of days? Or was he talking about the old friend that had fucked the love of Jason's life? Hard to tell. Well, he'd be supportive either way. 

Roy clapped a hand to his back. “Good on ya, Jaybird! ‘Bout time.” 

Yeah, it had the potential to end up very badly, very quickly, but at least Jason was _doing_ something finally. He’d take it. 

“Yeah, uh,” Jay took in a deep breath, “Could you maybe grab one of my spare helmets from our place in Maine? I- I have a feeling that we may need the time to, well, to talk.”

“‘Course. Anything else you need?” 

Jason shook his head, still miles away. Roy would have to leave it at that. He didn’t want to do anything to squash this newfound courage in him. 

* * *

He tried not to think about the state of his two friends on the car ride up. Between the only half-reacted chemistry between them and the suspicious, soft sounds emanating from her room, things had been weird when he had left. Jay’s own reaction was especially cause for concern. 

_Just hope for the best_ , he told himself, turning up the music louder. _They’ll be fine. Probably_. 

Something sour in his stomach told him otherwise. 

* * *

Normally, Roy would’ve stayed at the safehouse for the night. Catch up on some sleep, wake up hopefully well-rested, then start the arduous ten hour drive back to Gotham. 

Only, he couldn’t get that horrible feeling, the one that had permeated every inch of the apartment before he left, off his mind. One of them was planning on confessing, or both of them were, but Roy figured that whatever boy toy she had slept with a couple weeks back might complicate that. 

Would they hate each other after the confrontation? Jason wasn’t a stranger to saying harsh words in defense of when he himself was hurt, and she, while usually attempting to remain calm and level-headed, often took criticisms too close to heart. 

Jesus, Roy was a fucking idiot. 

Yeah, his friends were adults and yeah, they were very capable people in the field of vigilantism, but they sucked absolute ass when it came to discussing feelings— _and_ _Roy had left them_ alone _to sort out said feelings_. 

He needed to get back. ASAP. It didn’t matter if he flagged every cop along the way, he was gunning it back home. 

* * *

Coming back from the trip was weird, because it was noon and he knew for a fact that his idiot roommates were home (Jay’s motorcycle was still in the parking garage and her bike was locked up outside), but the living room and kitchen of their apartment-turned-safe-house was empty. 

Jay might’ve liked to sleep in, but she certainly didn’t. _Suspicious_.

Roy’s hackles were raised as soon as he entered the door because of this little fact. While he hadn’t been expecting a big welcome surprise for his return, he also hadn't expected a ghost town. Roy cursed under his breath; he didn’t have his bow or his arrows on him, but he did have a small hunting knife strapped to his lower back beneath his shirt just in case. Drawing it in his hands in case of an ambush, he noticed something black on the floor. 

He knelt down, still on edge but looking curiously at the garment. A bow tie? The hell? Maybe Jason had taken it off late one night and forgotten to pick it back up? But Jason didn’t wear ties unless he _absolutely had to_. 

His eyes spotted a single high heel, also black, and knocked over, the bottoms lightly scuffed. He was pretty sure their other roommate didn’t own shoes like that before, so she must have recently bought them or they were someone else’s entirely. 

Roy stood back up. The knife still weighed reassuringly in his hand, though he was pretty sure that nothing dangerous was happening. He decided to investigate further down the hall leading to their bedrooms. 

There, he found: the heeled shoe’s missing counterpart, a black blazer, a lone dress shoe, and, most interestingly, a black silk sheet peeking from just underneath Jason’s door. He pulled at the material using the tip of his knife and almost cursed out loud. A silk dress. An _expensive_ silk dress. A moan and a giggle sounded from the room. 

Oh boy. Oooooh boooy. 

Roy swore if Jason was fucking some random high-class woman to vent his frustrations about his ‘unrequited’ love, Roy was going to skin him alive. Especially if _she_ heard him fucking another woman. He pressed his ear up against the door, ready to burst in and give his bestie the scolding of a fucking lifetime. 

When he heard a breathy “ _Jason_ ,” he nearly fucking screamed. Holy. Fucking. _Christ_. 

His roommates were fucking. It wasn’t some random woman he’d found on the street; those two idiots were _finally_ fucking. Hell, all of that sexual tension must have eventually pent up. 

“I fucking knew it,” he said beneath his breath. He didn’t know whether to be happy for them or disgusted with the sounds emitting from Jason’s room. He settled on a decent medium: happy disgust. 

_It was about fucking time those idiots hooked up_ , he thought to himself. Quietly, he stepped back out into the kitchen, before deciding that the best course of action would be to leave. They needed some alone time to get on with confessing their love or whatever, and Roy really didn’t want to listen to his two best friends get it on. 

Damn, Dick was going to flip when he told him.

* * *

Okay, listen. 

He had said he was going to stay out of it. Roy knew he did. And he was gonna stick to that, except they were so fucking _loud_. Yeah, he knew that he technically wasn’t home to their knowledge, seeing as he had yet to make his presence known, but _come on_. They had _neighbors_. And if they kept fucking at this volume, they were bound to get a noise complaint. 

If he had to hear them finish one more time—in any room of the fucking apartment, mind you, because they were just that _excessive_ —he was going to lose it. 

So, what better way to get back at them than to give them a little scare mid- _dry-heave_ -orgasm? (They could take it, after all the peacemaker bullshit they'd put him through.)

First of all, what a funny fucking story. Second of all, yeah, he might get wrecked, but like, in the grand scheme of things? Roy wouldn’t mind. He’d die doing what he loved: messing with his friends and laughing about it. 

Taking a deep breath, both to steel him and to stifle back his laughter, Roy knocked on the door twice. “Hey, guys, I’m back-” hushed curses spewed from inside the room, “-and I noticed that we’re low on some food, so I’m gonna head to the supermarket. Need anything? Condoms-? Plan B-?” 

After that? Roy got the hell out of dodge, lest he be pummeled by a naked Jaybird. _Worth_ _it_ , he thought with a grin. 


End file.
